


Akira

by Akiri Kurusu (Sitka_Serket)



Series: Mysterious Occurrences [1]
Category: Persona 5, Persona Series
Genre: Akira is a jerk, Akira is vain, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - No Personas, Dark!Akira, Deformed beauty, Homme Fatale, Horror, Intense one-sided pining, Junji Ito - Freeform, LITERALLY, M/M, Oneshot, Unexplainable, Very one sided relationships, Yusuke is dramatic, and self-centered, aspect of beauty, but persona, mysterious occurence, people go crazy for Akira, things escalate, tomie - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 07:20:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15407874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sitka_Serket/pseuds/Akiri%20Kurusu
Summary: Yusuke never knew what true beauty was until Akira came around. That's when he changed everything.





	Akira

**Author's Note:**

> This was a test to see if I could go out of my comfort zone in writing some more personality to the third person perspectives do writing a little bit of horror in general. Forgive me if it’s kinda flowery, but I imagined Yusuke preferring this kind of language.

 

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This painting was going to be his magnum opus. If only he hadn’t flaunted his superiority over him. Akira was the man who had the perfect face, exemplary of beauty. It seemed as if he was too good to be true. Yusuke thought he had finally found his muse, but after everything, he was done. Done with painting. Done with even searching for any inspiration. Akira had made him weak, he can’t even find the appetite to eat food ever again. His chains clanked against his prison cell, the chance of getting out of there was slim. He hated Akira: the one with looks he would kill over for, and he did.

Yusuke Kitagawa watched as everyone filed in for the art exhibit, seeing eager art critics waiting to shatter artists dreams with their harsh reality-speaking truth. Yusuke was still not used to it, but so far, they had meant to construct him, telling him what he could do to make his idea clearer to the audience. He appreciated their kind insight and planned to use their ideas when he thought of his next piece. He wrote it down, just in case he forgot.

As more people gave him their thoughts, his eyes wandered to the entrance, noticing a breathtaking view of a stranger entering in. His hair was a dark as a raven, his eyes almost demonically unreal. Yusuke thought he wore contacts, that couldn’t be his real eye color… They both made eye contact and he made his way right towards him, it was his strides that seemed to make everyone else in the room non-existent.

He had the face of pure beauty. He looked at his painting, looking at all his crimson, grey, blacks swirls, unamused. “What is this supposed to represent? All I see is a knockoff of Vincent Van Gogh’s starry night.”

“It’s supposed to represent the thoughts of the unconscious mind,” Yusuke explained.

“You clearly aren’t ready for a complicated piece like that. It seems like you haven’t even clearly expressed human expressions. How can you show complicated ideas if you can’t get the basics down first?”

Yusuke was dumbfounded, more than that, speechless. Yet, the stranger did know what he was talking about. Albeit very harsh, but he seemed to show him more of what he could do right. The others told him that, but they would never dare to tell him he was aiming three steps ahead without really knowing what to do.

“You look like you need some _proper_ inspiration. I’m free,” he gestured to himself, offering himself up on a platter. This was his perfect muse, he radiated confidence that he wished he could have, looks so breathtakingly beautiful you’d know he had a flock of ladies waiting for their chance to get with him the second he became single.

“What is your name?” Yusuke asked.

“Just call me Akira.” He handed him a card with his number on it and headed out, heading who knows where. This truly was a stroke of luck for Yusuke.

* * *

Yusuke lived in a run down building, given to him after his mentor got arrested for taking credit of other people’s ideas. Yusuke had finally stood up for himself, and wanted a better life. For the most part, this place was legally his. It was a shabby excuse of a home, with the wood rotting away as he lived there. The place felt like the infrastructure could fall any minute, but it still stood.

Yusuke opened the door and jumped on his lumpy bed spreading his arms, prepared to take a nap after being drained of all that social energy. Yusuke didn’t know how artists could stand to be at places like that for so long. He knew he preferred the quiet of his own home, feeling the sweet silent solace comfort him.

Yusuke woke up to the sound of his front door creaking open. He stretched his head out the door to notice Akira moving about the place. “H-how’d you find my house?” Yusuke asked, rubbing his eyes. “I didn’t even give you my address yet?”

“You’re an easy person to figure out,” Akira said simply. “You seem like the kind of person who craves the quiet atmosphere of your own home. But I also remember hearing about your mentor on the news, so here I am.”

“Oh, well good. You being here is already giving me off some inspirational vibes, follow me.” He lead him down to the back of the house, where he had his canvas and painting supplies.

Akira sat down on the sofa in the most perfect position, showing his face at the perfect angle. Yusuke began to work, stroking the canvas.

* * *

It was hours before he finished, Akira stayed perfectly still for him, and he was thankful for that. Yusuke smiled and sighed with relief, wiping the sweat off his forehead. He pulled off his canvas to show him, “It’s good, but it’s only ten percent,” Akira critiqued.

“Ten percent? What do you mean ten percent?” Yusuke was befuddled by his response. Yusuke looked at his art, then flashed back to Akira. He was right. His art didn’t capture his flawless beauty at all. It was just a picture. No substance to keep you gazing at it, hoping to find some inner secret.

“Beauty with no substance.” Akira clicked his tongue, shaking his head. “I thought you’d be different. I guess I’ll look for another artist that can truly create my exemplary mystique…”

“Don’t go!” Yusuke cried, begging for him to come back. But the door closed, and Akira never returned. Yusuke fell to his knees. He was an amateur. He couldn’t even draw beauty correctly, just copy it, like the original didn’t matter.

Yusuke spent days and nights on end, trying to recreate his beauty with true thought put into it, but every time it got worse, and worse. He’d become obsessed with capturing Akira in the only way that his eyes could.

Yusuke figured he’d spent enough time in the house. His friend, Naoya Makigami invited him out for some coffee. Getting some fresh air was just what he needed. Yusuke always appreciated a dark roast. “So how have you been?” Yusuke asked, as he sat down at the bar.

“I heard you postponed your next work.”

“I did. My model walked out on me…”

“That’s a shame. Did you know Natsuhiko has been coming out with a lot of pieces in the past few weeks.”

“Really? I’m glad for him.”

“Yeah. So much so, that I looked to see what he had been doing. Since I’ve been getting more interested in photography, I checked up on him. I wanted to show you a photo I took of him with someone you might find interesting...” He pulled out his camera and showed him the pictures. It was of Natsuhiko Nakanohara, one of his old mentors pupils with Akira, walking behind him. “Every time I try to get a picture of the guy, my picture is either blurry or turns out really weird… But the man,” he pointed to Akira. “He looks like he should be doing modeling or something.”

“I tried to paint him a few days ago, but I couldn’t get it right…” Yusuke explained.

“No one could be able to pull off that perfection. It’s just unreal…” Yusuke looked at the photos again, noticing a ghastly image almost clinging to the side of his face in one of the clearer images of Akira. Something about it didn’t settle right with him…

“Next series is going to be titled Akira, with all kinds of sculptures with him as the model.”

Perhaps Yusuke should try to get in touch with his old friend Natsuhiko. Maybe he fared better with him. “Do you know where he’s living now?” He asked.

“Yes,” he wrote down Natsuhiko’s address on a napkin and handed it to him. Yusuke sipped the last drop off his coffee, before thanking him, and heading off.

Natsuhiko’s house was far in worse condition than his was. It seemed like no one was really living there, the place felt like it was abandoned, yet Yusuke knocked at his door as the sun was setting down. He expected to have no response, but the door barely creaked open. “Yusuke. It’s been a while since I’ve seen you,” no energy came from his voice.

“Do you have Akira?” Yusuke asked.

“He’s mine. I own Akira now.” Natsuhiko was about to close the door, before Yusuke put his arm through and bursted inside. He ran all the way to the back of the house, searching for Akira. He needed to get him out of the place. Natsuhiko usually wasn’t like that.

He burst open to see Akira staring at the floor. Millions of sculptures were shattered. All of them showing off his visage in immaculate condition.

Natsuhiko returned to his work, sculpting more of Akira. “Natsuhiko?” He called out to him. His mind was there, but his eyes were focusing on sculpting pure perfection. He looked at him, noticing the bags underneath his bloodshot eyes. This man needed rest. Yusuke tried to pry him away from his work. “I don’t need to rest!” Natsuhiko replied with a delirious smile. “Akira satiates my hunger for artistry, my need to be inspired. I haven’t eaten in days, because Akira is just what I need. I’m no longer thirsty, Akira’s beauty is what I drink up as fuel to keep me running.” Yusuke backed away slowly, this man had lost his head. He needed to get some real help. “Akira can never be shown to the world. People would become infatuated with him as much as I am, and I can’t let that happen!” He pushed over his latest work with another resounding thud.

Yusuke took Akira’s hand and pulled him to his feet. He was scared to death. “Thank you for rescuing me. I thought he was going to kill me! I don’t ever want to go to another artist ever again, besides you, Yusuke.” He looked at him, with his dazzling eyes and took him away. Akira was his. All his.

He begun painting again, happy to have his muse back. This work was going to be his magnum opus. He could feel it in his bones. “You know he almost tried to kill me.” Akira remarked, still maintaining his perfect pose while speaking. “Every artist I’ve met has tried to replicate my unequalled beauty, but none have come close, besides your Natsuhiko. But he refused to show it.”

“Yes. I can see why. He hasn’t shown your true potential. This,” he showed him the final painting. “Is your true beauty!” He showed him a grotesque monster. The one he saw in the photographs. It was nothing like him at all.

“How dare you mock me!” Akira seethed in rage. “That painting would make someone repulsed just by looking at it! It’s a disgrace to me and what I should represent!” He knocked away the painting from Yusuke.

“You don’t know how hard I work on things!” Yusuke yelled. “Can’t you accept that maybe you were meant to be shown in a different way? Fate wants your perfect, flawless beauty to be unseen! Therefore, the only way a person can see you is by contorting your beauty! Don’t you see this is all for you!” He pushed it towards Akira once more. “I love you Akira. Let me make my next works all about you, and truly show you in this kind of light!”

“You’re the worst artist on earth! This painting is a mockery of me, and I don’t want to see it!” Akira looked away and began to gather up his things.

Yusuke grabbed him by the neck. “Why won’t you praise me? Why won’t you acknowledge me? I love you Akira. I love you more than the air and oxygen I breathe,” he pleaded.

“Y-you’re c-choking m-me…” Akira gasped for air. And then before he knew it, he had a butchers knife in his hands. His hand was chopping away on its own, slicing him into bloody chunks. Even in death, his complexion was perfect. Yusuke’s only realized what he had done once he looked at his shirt. It was stained with Akira’s crimson splatter.

”What have I done?” Yusuke truly had no idea what he was going to do. He pulled at his hair, trying to think of something. 

“I knew this would happen, so I called the police.” He could hear Akira’s voice as if he was right there, haunting him from the grave. “Have a nice time painting in prison.”

Yusuke cried out to Akira, but he felt as if Akira took a piece of him. He would never paint again.

* * *

On the news a few days after a week since Yusuke landed himself in prison, he noticed another artist had debuted his work with Akira. _That couldn’t be true…_ Yusuke thought, but as it continued, they showed off Akira in front of the news, alive and well. And he just looked at the camera and smiled at him with a devilish grin.

Maybe something as beautiful as him had a secret to hide...

**Author's Note:**

> Junji Ito is known for creating works that feel very Lovecraftian and often shock most of the readers. His big hits like Uzumaki, Tomie, and Gyo show his artistic creation. Although it's not for everyone, going back and reading the short story Painter, made me think of what would happen if it had the Persona 5 characters as the story focus. Akira was known for having charming looks, while Yusuke was an artist trying to learn how to create using his heart in the original game. I wanted to see if I could twist it, while also challenging myself with going into a bit of horror


End file.
